Jack Frost Or Jack the Cursed?
by Cat Lunanoff
Summary: Jack claims a young girl and comes to retrieve her years later. When she doesn't want to go, all hell breaks loose. *Twisted. Jack is nothing like his fairytale here. (I found the cover- not mine- and it truly shows how disturbed he is. In the picture, he is trying to lure kids onto the ice, and he drowns them so they can come back like him and he'll never have to be alone again.)*
1. Prologue

**Jack Frost... Or Jack The Cursed?||Prologue**

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_Disclaimer: I don't own RotG_

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I was thirteen when it happened.

I crept out into the night, in the dead of January. I was shivering and shuddering, but I didn't care. I came out here to find Jack Frost. I knew he existed; I had seen the signs, watched the movies, read the stories.

I spread out my blanket and sat on it, prepared to wait the whole night, even if I froze to death.

Turned out, I didn't have to wait long. I was purposely wearing white to blend in with the snow that was falling gently. I saw a dark figure lurking in the shadows at the woods at the edge of my property and tensed, my flashlight at the ready. I didn't need really it, the moon was so bright, but it was comforting to hold. The figure snuck out into my yard, a dark blue-and-brown patch against the pure snow. I waited as it came closer and closer, satisfied no one had seen it. I couldn't see the head, hair, hands, and feet, because they blended perfectly with the white flakes falling. His dark clothing made him stand out from the snow, and his pale limbs made him stand out from the dark trees. He got within three feet of me before I spoke up, breaking the absolute silence of the night.

"Jack Frost?"

He breathed in sharply and his head whipped around, his eyes searching for mine within his hood. I looked at him steadily, unafraid. I repeated myself, not as a question anymore. "Jack Frost."

He started to walk closer as I stood. "Yes?"

"You're Jack Frost. Right?"

He let out a low chuckle. "Yes, you're absolutely right. Who are you?"

I held my chin high. "I'm Faith."

"What a beautiful name." He walked until he was right before me, only half a foot of space between us. I was very conscious of the few inches separating us, and I found myself wishing they were less, then scolded myself for thinking like that. "Why are you out here?"

"I wanted to see you. I knew you would come." He seemed startled, and I took the opportunity to look at him. He looked just like he did in his most recent movie, and it made me wonder how the moviemakers got the details right.

He placed his fingers beneath my chin and lifted it up until we were looking directly at each other, closing the gap and looking down at me from his height, which was greater than I'd expected. "A pretty little girl like you shouldn't be outside alone at night. There are plenty of scary things out after dark."

I blushed at the closeness and complements. "I'm not afraid of the dark," I said boldly. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Is that right?" he mused, turning my face slightly to see it better in the moonlight, which now seemed eerie. It started to get creepy, how close we were and the scrutiny with which he examined my face. His eyes traveled down my body with precision, looking me over and making me squirm. "Well then." I could have sworn I heard him mutter, _It's always better if they're willing_. "You're perfect."

"Perfect for what?" I was suddenly suspicious. It didn't sound like a complement, simply stating the facts.

Instead of answering my question, he pressed his lips to mine. It was my first kiss, if it _was_ a kiss. He didn't move his mouth at all, just smashed it against mine. His lips were freezing, and I stood there, shocked, until he pulled away, but it was only an inch. "You're mine now," he whispered in my ear, sending a tingling down my spine, and he pressed something to my collarbone, so cold I didn't realize it was sharp until he drew it away glistening with blood. I looked down at myself and saw a shallow snowflake carved into my skin. It would scar, and probably never fade. He pressed his mouth to the cut before I registered any pain, not exactly kissing it but pretty close, what he had done before. It sealed over, burning bright blue and beginning to sting.

I looked up at him as he licked the tiniest bit of blood from his mouth, very businesslike. "What did you do," I whispered, trying to keep the horror from my voice.

"Just a mark."

"A mark for what?" I was starting to get nervous, and maybe he could sense that, because he placed his hands on my shoulders and held me where I was.

"Claiming you." He said it casually, as if it were no big deal.

"Claiming?" This time I could not hold back the horror.

"Yes."

"Why did you claim me?" I couldn't seem to speak above a whisper.

"So the others wouldn't take you. Now you are mine, and they wouldn't dare to take what is mine."

"Others?"

"Yes. The others."

"Who?" I could barely manage more than one word answers.

"The rest. My friends, rivals, companions. One of them is Jeff the Killer. He's had his eye on you for a while, but now he can't have you." I noticed for the first time the crazed look in his eyes. It was a controlled craziness though, and that was the scariest part.

"Why wouldn't they take me?"

"Because I'd kill two of their marked in return." He said it all so nonchalantly, as if this was an everyday occurrence for him.

"I'm not property." My voice grew stronger. "I'm not a possession. I'm a person." I took a step back.

He closed the gap again and his breath brushed my face as he spoke. "No. You are mine now. And you always will be." He pressed his mouth to mine again and ran off, leaving me with a shining blue mark on my neck and numb lips, a terrified little girl.

He was not what he was like in his fairytale. Not at _all_. No, he was a monster, and I was his now. I turned and ran back to the safety of my house, feeling as if I was being watched.

From the edge of the woods, Jack watched me flee, laughing darkly. "She'll be mine, as soon as she comes of age. As soon as she reaches seventeen, she'll be mine. And there's nothing Jeff can do about it."

He whooped for joy as the wind carried him off, to another unfortunate city, to another unfortunate neighborhood, to another unfortunate block, another unfortunate home, another unfortunate girl.

He wanted what was his. He wouldn't let age stand in his way. He hadn't before, at least, for the last three hundred years.

And I am his next victim.

Wouldn't it give _you_ nightmares?


	2. Chapter 1- A Sneaking Suspicion

**Jack Frost... Or Jack the Cursed?||Chapter One- A Sneaking Suspicion**

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_Disclaimer: I don't own RotG nor do I claim to_

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I sat up, covered in cold sweat. "Oh, ew." I said, scrunching up my face. It had been _ages_ since I last had that nightmare. I never remembered it though. The details were already stating to fade and it became fuzzy. I couldn't tell what was actually said in the dream and what I made up as I tried to remember.

My blankets and sheets were all sweaty and twisted half off the bed, so I stripped them away and tossed them in the hamper. I went to my closet and picked out a blue shirt and ripped skinny jeans.

Today was my seventeenth birthday, and I had to go to school. It was _totally_ unfair. I also hated the color blue unless it was regular blue jeans, but my boyfriend bought me this shirt and told me it complemented my multicolored eyes. I only wore it today because I knew how much it would mean to him that I was wearing a gift from him on my birthday.

I grabbed my black boots and spun in a circle, the soft orange of my walls making me feel better despite wearing blue. Whenever I wear blue, I get this creepy feeling that someone is watching me, and it usually makes me grumpy. I pulled on an orange tank top the same color as my underwear and slipped on orange thread bracelets, matching my vibrant orange nails. For some reason, orange made me feel safe, like the watching eyes went away, even if I wore jeans, as long as I had plenty of orange to balance it out.

I put on an orange headband, pushing my straight white-blonde hair back. Sometimes I wished I was a redhead so I would feel safe all the time, but my chin-length hair was pretty, and I would never _dream_ of dying it. Well, I dreamt of it, but I wouldn't actually _do_ it. I put on orange socks, wearing more orange than usual, but I was wearing a blue shirt, and that was drawing _way_ too much omniscient attention for my liking.

I looked in my full-length mirror and winced slightly. "I look like a Mets fan." Not that I don't like them, I'm just not that into baseball. The New York Mets, I'm talking about. Yes, I live in New York. No, not the city. I live in a little town called Oceanside*****, where everyone knows everyone and everyone knows everything. And by everything, I mean every bit of gossip or rumor there is to be found of you. The whole town is a community of busybodies, including my parents. I swear, I think I am the only person in this stereotypical rich white town who respects others' privacy; not like they respect mine.

For example, I had to go to the doctor for a broken kneecap over the summer, and no one saw it, no one was there. I had literally just fallen down the stairs while I was carrying a really heavy and awkward box. It had been at night and all the shades had been drawn. I had been navigating by the light of my phone alone, resulting in my accident. And yet, the next day, I got a truckload of get-well cards and about twenty voicemails saying they hoped I was feeling alright, and how was my knee, and did I need any help, blah blah blah, just more excuses to poke their noses into my business. I honestly can't wait until I can move far, far away from here.

I know it sounds rude, but I've come to realize this after living my whole life here. Even my parents are like that. I hate them, I really do. My boyfriend is okay though, he really doesn't pry like all my ex-boyfriends did. It was the reason I broke up with them. No, I'm not a player, or a slut. It was just that after a week of dealing with their conceited babble almost nonstop, I just wanted to never see them again.

Cliff and I had been dating for a while, about three months, and it was nice to have a steady relationship.

Cliff was taller than me, about 5'7" to my 5'3", and he had shaggy black hair that was so black it looked blue, and it was shiny and glossy, like a raven's feathers. His eyes were a weird but cool grass green, much lighter than most green eyes are. He was pretty tan, and smart, and sporty. In other words, almost my exact opposite.

But enough about my boyfriend.

I grabbed my bookbag from my desk and shoved all my homework in it, carefully completed at three o'clock in the morning when I remembered I had any. And by carefully, I mean barely legible with what must be all wrong answers, but my teachers just check to see if you wrote something, not that they're right answers.

I hopped out my bedroom door with a mascara wand in one hand and a hairbrush in the other, my shoe half on and my knee brace on over my jeans to make sure I didn't stress it.

I made it down the stairs without falling (again) and swapped my tools, putting makeup on my left eye and pulling on my boot, throwing my brush in my bag. I pulled my phone from the charger and threw both in my bag as well, along with my lunch. I put my makeup in my bag -wow, it was getting messy, I had to clean it out tomorrow- and ran out the door without grabbing a jacket, immediately regretting it. I spotted Cliff's old, dilapidated van with his band logo on the side pull up at the curb and I climbed in the passenger seat, greeting him with a kiss before he drove off. We were both seniors, but he was older than me with a spring birthday and had a license, while mine was at the very end of November, the beginning of winter.

I frowned at the cloudy gray skies as we drove in silence, apart from the radio. We both weren't morning people.

What I didn't get was why on earth it was so overcast. During the summer and spring, sure, we'd have bad thunderstorms, but even in the coldest of winters it remained bright and sunny, with only a tiny bit of snow to last all through the season, even though it would get to below freezing temperatures. I had yet to see a white Christmas in all my seventeen years of living here, yet it looked like it was going to be a blizzard.

"Hey Cliff, what's up with the weather?"

He shrugged, his eyes locked on the road. "I dunno. The news said it would be sixty-five degrees and sunny. Maybe it'll clear up soon. I honestly doubt it'll snow. You know how it is."

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right." We didn't talk much in the morning. I, for one, was a night owl, and so was Cliff. I practically slept through first period every day. Psh, who needs math, anyway?

I was shivering. Not wearing a jacket was a mistake. The wind whipped through the thin shirt and struck my bare arms harshly- even stupider of me to wear a short sleeved shirt- and there was no working heat in the van. My window was apparently stuck halfway open, too. Cliff noticed, and at the next red light, he shrugged out of his jacket, an old leather one with some fur lining. I smiled gratefully and wrapped the overly large jacket around my thin frame, swamped in it, but warm.

Until the wind blew again, that is. Then it seemed like it _wanted_ me to be cold, like it had malicious intent behind it, driving the wind through the material that had worked so well at keeping it out only a moment ago. I shivered again, but it was still better than no jacket at all.

Finally, we got to school. It would be warm inside, I knew that, and that thought overruled every reluctance I had of entering. I practically ran inside, relaxing in the blast of heat from one of the vents. Cliff came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He smelled of cologne, same as his jacket. "What're you doing?"

"Warming up. I'm freezing! You _have_ to get the heat working in that thing again."

"Yeah, I know."

"Here's your jacket." I tugged it off and handed it to him, colder without it but much better than in the van, since there was heating and I was standing right in front of it.

Cliff put on the jacket and repositioned his backpack. "Happy birthday Faith!" He pulled something from his backpack and held it out to me shyly.  
It was an adorable white teddy bear. I 'aww'd and took it gently, looking at it before wrapping my arms around it and hugging it tightly. "Thank you! I love it, it is absolutely _adorable_." I gave him a hug, the teddy bear smushed between us.

Something caught his eye over my shoulder. "Ten bucks says it won't snow?"

"Deal."

We separated and watched out of windows as we walked to our lockers. They were only a few rows apart. It looked like I was going to lose this bet. But there was no _way_ it was going to snow today.

Yet, there was an odd chill in my bones, and my neck hurt for some reason. Like it was burning, or rather, _freezing_. I shuddered and pulled the neck of my shirt up higher, and Cliff wrapped a warm arm around me. The air didn't seem to like that. But we were at our lockers, and my orange tank stuck out a little when I let go of the collar.

All the venom seemed to diffuse out of the air.

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***I've never been to Oceanside, never been most- if not all- of the places in my stories, but I ****_do_**** do my research. I look up small towns in the location I'm aiming for and look up a little what they're like so I can at a feel for it, and if I can't (I couldn't for this) then I make something up. **  
**No offense intended for anyone who lives in Oceanside, I'm making this whole story up. I'm sure everything is perfectly fine and nice there, but for the purpose of the story, the town has to be like that. Also, don't get the wrong impression if you've never been. I'M MAKING UP THE ATMOSPHERE it probably isn't really like that. I have no way of knowing. **  
**I did some weather research and found out that Oceanside does not, in fact, get a lot of snow. I'm trying to be as professional as possible, and I'm taking the liberty of looking up a map of Oceanside. Large and popular road names may be included, and I'll try to make them work together, but most of the places and all of the people are fake. **  
**Oceanside High (what I'm deciding to call it) may-or-may-not exist, I'm just figuring that most towns have a high school with the name of the town in it. I haven't checked the map yet, but I'll keep the name. Also, I'm making up my own layout, so even if the school names are the same, the floor plans are not. Thank you for reading this disclaimer thingy.  
Faith does not exist. **  
**Cliff does not exist. **  
**Jack Frost does exist (I swear on my life I saw him once), but not my creepy twisted version. So don't worry. This is just a figment of my incredibly disturbed imagination.  
A/N:  
This whole thing is intended to be creepy. I don't plan on making it one of those gross ones. Kissing, maybe; probably, almost definitely. Touching, not much, if any at all, and not extreme (faces, hands, etc). ****_THAT_****, nuh-uh, not at all, that's just disgusting.  
I hope you like it? A review with some ideas, maybe?**


	3. Chapter 2- Claimers Reappear

**Jack Frost... Or Jack the Cursed?||Chapter 2- Claimers Reappear**

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_Disclaimer: Still don't own RotG..._

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_**Lunch**_

Cliff and I sat down at our usual table, a small group of people sitting down next to us. We always sat out in the courtyard, even in the winter, because it was always deserted. The cafeteria was packed every day, and there were _no_ free tables. Ever. The windows were shaded, no one could see in or out, and we were surrounded by walls.

I regretted not bringing a jacket, again, but I settled myself in as comfortably as I could beside Cliff and Juliet, my closest friend.

Someone, I think Juliet's boyfriend Rick, just finished the punch line of a joke, and I didn't know what it was, but I laughed along with everyone else. As I moved, I could have sworn I felt something graze the spot between my shoulder blades and I froze instinctively, my breath catching in my throat.

"Faith? You okay?" Cliff looked fairly concerned.

I snapped out of it and shook my head, now sure there was something almost touching my back. "Yeah sweetie, I'm fine." I leaned over and kissed his cheek. Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw Juliet tense up too. "Juliet?"

"What?" She forced a smile onto her face. We sat at a long counter looking out at a garden, and I couldn't see behind her, or Cliff, from my perch on the bench, but I got the sense we weren't alone. But that was impossible. No one could get onto the school grounds without an ID.

"Are you okay?" I narrowed my eyes slightly and scrutinized her face.

"I'm perfectly okay, why do you ask?" Her response was too stiff, too quick, too formal.

"You just looked uncomfortable, like there was something on your back. Maybe right between the shoulder blades?"

"What are you talking about?" She laughed nervously. The conversation continued on around us, oblivious. Her back arched slightly and she squirmed a bit. I gave her my I-know-you're-lying face and she dropped the act, leaning over and whispering in my ear. "Exactly. How did you know?"

I definitely felt something against my back now, and it was _sharp_. I cupped my hand around her ear and whispered, "Because I feel it too." It dug in a little deeper, making me squeak. I quickly straightened and got involved in the conversation, pretending nothing was wrong and I couldn't feel a knife or some sharp object pressed directly behind where my heart was. I laughed again when everyone else did, only vaguely aware of the actual joke, but I heard the words "Truth or dare," enter my head dimly.

"Dare," Cliff's voice snapped me out of the fog.

"I dare you to make out with the prettiest girl at the table." I could hear the smirk in the person's voice.

Cliff immediately turned to the left and kissed me, in front of everyone, which we didn't usually do. A chorus of 'ooh's came from the table, but I was lost in the taste of mint and the smell of cologne. The knife pressed into my back harder, but I ignored it and my hands found their way into Cliff's hair, winding themselves into the dark mess. His hands settled on my waist and held me to the bench, which was good, because I felt like I was about to float away but for the knife that was now digging into my spine. We separated, both gasping for breath, with a loud sucking sound. Totally embarrassing. My face turned bright red and Cliff wound his arm around my shoulders, tucking me against his side.

He suddenly tensed, a weird expression on his face, and I felt the knife in my back lessen it's pressure. I didn't dare try to turn and see who was holding it. I was too scared. "Faith. Don't. Move." I wasn't moving anyway.

Something latched around my waist and dragged me backwards at the same time as Juliet, off the bench, out of Cliff's arms. I couldn't seem to find the air to scream.

Juliet could though. A piercing shriek rang through the courtyard and all of our friends turned in their seats, some with joking expressions, some with freaked out faces. Juliet thrashed and kicked and screamed, resisting her captor- whose face I still couldn't see- and I saw the arms tightening around her waist.

I, on the other hand, went totally limp, slumping in the arms holding me and letting my head loll back, my knees buckling. They seemed unprepared for that and their grip loosened momentarily as they tried to hold me up. But before I could take advantage of that moment, like I'd been planning, their arms tightened more than before and I gasped for air, the knife now pointing at my neck.

Two voices growled, "Let her go," one I knew very well, and another one I couldn't quite recognize, though I was sure I'd heard it before.

A voice came from right above me along with a heavy drop of liquid onto the top of my head. "Let Juliet go first." It was weird and slightly garbled, and it scared me. A lot of things were scaring me today.

I reached for the hands at my waist and tried to pry the fingers away. "What do you want with Juliet?" I said in a small voice.

The voice I couldn't remember hissed. "Let her go, Jeff." My neck was cold, very cold, and it burned, making me cry out.

"Stop it! You're hurting her!" Cliff yelled, his eyes narrowed in anger.

My hands left my waist and unconsciously scratched at my collarbone, scraping at the old scar that marred the skin in a perfect bluish circle, trying to pull it off, like it was causing me pain. And it was. That little circle, about an inch and a half in diameter, was causing me enough pain that tears were streaming from my eyes in a river and I tasted iron; I had bitten my lip so hard it bled. The hand pointed the knife directly over my heart.

"Jeff, let her go or I'll kill the girl," the strange but familiar voice said in an even tone that scared me.

I rasped, "Leave Juliet alone."

All I could see was Cliff's face as he hesitated between lunging for me and perhaps hastening my death, or staying out and prolonging the end. He was leaning towards the first option.

The voice from above me spoke again, more liquid dripping onto my head. "See? Even the girl agrees with me. Let Juliet go, and I'll let her live. Maybe." But I think I was the only one who could hear the last word.

The arms loosened and I could breathe, sucking in a huge breath and slicing my shirt slightly. My vision cleared and I saw all my friends, including Rick but excluding Cliff, hiding behind the table. Some were even eating as they watched. _Some friends_, I thought bitterly.

I tried to glance up but couldn't lean my head back far enough; it was a male voice, and my back was pressed against his chest. I looked as far to the side as I could, but I only saw Juliet's kicking limbs and hear muffled screams. He- again, the vaguely familiar voice was a male- must have put something over or in her mouth to shut her up. I got my breath back. "Why don't you just let us both go and explain? Trying to kill us isn't exactly _civil_."

The captors both seemed surprised by my casual tone, and in that moment, Cliff lunged for me.

The person holding me dropped me and pulled the knife away, intercepting Cliff mid-run. All I saw was the back of a gray hoodie and the sharp gleam of a knife, the person a blur. In a second, Cliff was pinned to the ground by the figure and the knife was poised over his face.

Juliet fell to the ground, and I saw a rag stuffed in her mouth. I moved to help her, but then the person holding her hostage was behind me, holding my wrists behind my back with one hand and the other arm around my waist like an embrace, pressing me very, very close, so they were practically breathing in my ear. It sent chills down my spine. I remained very still as my eyes returned to Cliff. The knife-guy lowered the point to the corner of his mouth and started to cut. In moments, I realized what he was doing.

The pain seemed to stun Cliff at first, but then he started screaming, to which response the guy in gray yelled "GO TO SLEEP!" over and over as he carved lines into his face, starting at the corners of his mouth. I started screaming, but the guy holding me slid his hand up my body and covered my mouth. I licked his hand, but he didn't move. I kept screaming Cliff's name over and over again, muffled by the hand over my mouth, straining against the hands holding me back. I saw Rick crawl out and start helping Juliet to get under the table and I thrashed harder, trying to keep his attention on me. My neck was burning more than before, the collar of my shirt showing it off as I moved violently.

I finally felt the temperature of the hands as Cliff screamed louder and I sobbed. They were like dry ice. Freezing breath blew against my neck, tickling my ear, "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be concerned with the fate of the likes of him."

I froze in place, my scream abruptly dying off. Wait, bad pun. I stopped moving and struggling, and my pupils dilated in terror. "You," I whispered into the hand, no longer shrieking. Juliet was almost hidden under the table.

"Yes," Jack Frost purred, his voice deep and smooth. "It's me."

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**LionsandTrolls:**** In a way, yeah, though I didn't have him in mind when I started writing this.**

**EmmALewisS:**** I PMed you, but yeah, ****_definitely_**** going to be dark. Nothing suggestive, but ****_really_**** violent, and you'll really see his scary side. He likes verbal sparring, and Faith is great with that. She is ****_not_**** as fragile as she appears, she's grown a backbone since she was 13, and that surprises him, a lot. Jack is used to people who never ever change, having hung out with immortals for as long as he could remember, so he expects her to still be meek and slightly in awe of him when instead she hates his guts.**

**A/N:**  
**Jack is freakin creepy. I'm totally terrified of him. Yes, he's going to be acting OOC, but that's because he's legit insane, not because I don't understand his character. There's a difference.  
I already got 2 reviews! You guys have no idea how happy I am! (Sadly, my other 3 haven't got any, but good things happen to those who wait, right? It's only been a day, after all.)  
I have a poll on my profile, please drop a vote in! I reeeeally wanna know...  
This is Cat Lunanoff, signing off *mock salute***


	4. Chapter 3- Jack Boasts of His Insanity

**Jack Frost... Or Jack the Cursed?||Chapter 3- Jack Boasts of His Insanity**

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_Disclaimer: What part do you people not get about me NOT owning RotG?_

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"Why are you doing this?" I said, louder, Cliff's screaming breaking my heart.

"I told you I claimed you, didn't I? You're my property now."

"Didn't I tell you four years ago that I'm a person, not a possession? I thought we already had this conversation!" I pulled again, trying to get to Cliff. "Leave him alone! He didn't do anything!"

"I don't control Jeff. He does what he wants."

"Jeff!" I yelled, his name clearly audible despite the attempts to silence me. "Please, stop it!"

Jeff didn't even twitch, but Juliet practically had a fit, shaking, and Rick dropped her onto the concrete, attracting Jeff's attention. Rick scrambled back under the table, but with a flick of Jack's hand, his fingers started to turn blue, then green, then black, first frostbite, then gangrene spreading across his limbs until he collapsed into a pile of white bones. I fell silent, scared of what he would do to me. "Please, let me go talk to Juliet," I whispered.

The boys both shook their heads. The courtyard fell silent, the stones splattered with blood. Cliff was quiet. I supposed he was d-

Gone. Not dead, not my Cliff, no no no never dead.

Juliet was laying on the ground, her mouth still gagged, staring at Jeff in horror. She slowly moved the gag from her mouth. "What are you doing here?" she said in a loud voice, shattering the silence. "I told you to leave me the hell alone!"

Jeff turned fully towards me and I gasped. His face had a grotesque smile cut into it, showing some of his teeth and cheekbones, saliva and blood dripping slowly. It was crusted over slightly, scabbing, but blood was slowly creeping out as he moved his face, drool moving with it. I realized with a shudder that the stuff dripping onto my head must have been from his face. His eyelids were blackened and his eyes overly large, and he seemed to never blink. He seemed vaguely familiar; I had heard people talking about dressing up like him for Halloween, although I doubted they had ever seen him in person, as I had the misfortune of doing. "Jeff the killer," I said quietly, shocked.

I looked back over my shoulder at Jack, my face contorted in anger. "Why couldn't you have just been a nightmare? Why are you real? I don't _believe_ in you," I hissed.

He just smiled. "The marked don't need to believe."

"So what?"

He sighed in exasperation and I saw Jeff start to move towards Juliet slowly. "This?" He removed his hand from my mouth and tapped a spindly finger on the scar that was burning. The blistering sensation went away and I almost sighed in relief. "That's my mark. You've hidden it, but it's a snowflake. Ah, there it is." I looked back down and the circular part was gone, the blood dried up and tacky. It was delicate lines branching from each other in a pretty pattern. "Yes, you've been marked for quite some time now."

I turned my full attention back to Juliet, trying not to think about anything else. Jeff was in a crouch, his hands out like she was a frightened animal. Strange noises were coming from his throat. Gentle murmurs, reassurances, a small tune, like he was about to help an injured animal. Juliet was frozen, her eyes fixed on his, not his mouth, an expression between terror, disgust, and perhaps-

Longing? Why on earth would she be _longing_ for him?

"Juliet," Jeff whispered, as if she was going to bolt at the sound of his voice. To my surprise, she didn't move. She kept watching as he inched closer, but she didn't scream again. It was as if she was under a spell. I noticed something just inside her wrist I'd never seen before, a scar in the shape of a smiley face, but it looked creepy, considering it was carved into the skin of her wrist, just above the throbbing veins. It was glowing faintly red, pulsing with her heartbeat. He stretched out a hand and I looked on with fascination as she didn't shy away, allowing him to touch her face then her wrist, what must be her mark. He stood cautiously and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. She stood independently, never breaking eye contact.

"Juliet, what do you think you're doing?" My voice was slightly squeaky, but she looked over, still holding his hand.

"I'm going with Jeff," she slurred, her gaze unfocused.

"What did you do to her?" I demanded, my fear ebbing away. Juliet was always quick and alert, witty and fast. It was like she was on drugs. "Why is she like this?" The rest of my friends were inside, leaving us alone in the courtyard.

"She's just feeling the effects of the mark, of being away from the marker for too long."

"Then why am _I_ not like that?" I spat bitterly, trying to pull away from him. "Why am I not a mindless, obedient slave too?"

"Oh, you will be," he said, sounding like he wasn't paying complete attention. "Trust me, you will be." Once again, I heard that controlled craziness just beneath the surface of his voice, masked enough for no one to ever hear it. Somehow, I noticed it. Was it being marked?

"You're crazy!" I exclaimed, squirming frantically. "You've absolutely lost your mind!"

He snorted and tightened his grip on me. "And you're a fool. You actually thought I was _sane_."

Those words scared me more than the turning-Rick-into-a-pile-of-bones trick.

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**A/N:**  
**Happy New Year! *blows noismaker* Guess who was almost asleep at midnight and then went home to stay up on FF until 5am? THIIIIIISSS GIIIIIRL! *points thumbs at self while dancing like a goofball*  
I didn't get any reviews on the last chapter, but I have faith in you guys! It's only been a few hours since I posted it anyway and not everyone is awake during my wacky publishing hours!  
Go nocturnal writers!  
Maybe listening to Three Days Grace and OneRepublic and Black Veil Brides and Mumford & Sons (among others) while I'm asleep wasn't such a good idea...  
This is Cat Lunanoff, signing off to get some sleep even though it's the afternoon! *mock salutes*  
**


	5. Chapter 4- I Play Legos With a Killer

**Jack Frost Or Jack the Cursed?||Chapter 4- I Play Legos With a Killer**

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_Disclaimer: Nope nope nope, though this story is going to touch upon 'lightened' darker themes (explained in the A/N)_

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Controlled craziness and known craziness were the worst kinds, in my opinion, because it made a person that more dangerous. Jack had both. He was crazy, and he was aware he was crazy, and he controlled his craziness, but at any second he could let it out and rip my head off. It was enough to make anyone nervous.

Right now we were walking through the crowded hallways of the school, his arm casually draped over my shoulders, but I was rigid and stiff, my back like a ruler, ramrod straight. I didn't know if people could see him, but I was too scared to notice if they went through him. He was whispering in my ear as we walked, instructing me on what to do. His breath, as cold as the wind that morning- wait, that was _his_ wind! Stupid, stupid, _stupid!-,_ gave me goosebumps and sent shivers running down my spine, but ones of terror.

"When you get to the front door, act like you belong. Loosen up!" he hissed, jabbing me in the side with his fingertips, which hurt. "Say you're going out for lunch."

I nodded and walked into the lobby, his arm still around me. It horrified me.

The security monitor at the front desk smiled at me. "Hello Faith. Where are you going?"

I breathed deeply and smiled, albeit shakily. "I'm going out for lunch, Mrs. Johnson."

She took in the long black mascara tracks down my face and gave me a reassuring smile. "Tough breakup?"

I whimpered slightly as Jack's fingers dug into my shoulder and nodded.

"It's alright, honey. I don't need an ID, I know you," she said kindly as I reached for my bag. "You can just sit in the parking lot for a moment if you need to, but don't miss any class, okay?"

I nodded and cleared my throat. "Thanks, Mrs. Johnson." I walked out of the door, and she didn't even seem to notice it opening by itself as Jack stretched out a ghostly pale hand. He opened the outer door too and guided me to Cliff's van.

He reached into the pocket of Cliff's leather jacket, which I had insisted on taking even though it had some blood on it, and shook the keys in front of my face. He opened the driver-side door and shoved me in roughly. "I can't drive, or it will look like no one is driving it. You will go exactly where I tell you, or I will kill you." He stuck the keys in the ignition and climbed into the bench seat from the opposite side of the van.

I looked over at him fearfully. "But I can't drive. I get my license in the spring."

"So what? It's easy. And unless you want to sit in my lap to make it look like a car isn't driving itself..."

I decided quickly. "Practice makes perfect." I turned the key and started the ignition, praying it wouldn't turn over. It spluttered and went silent, like it usually did, and I almost cheered, but then it roared to life and I was ready to cry. A thought occurred to me. "But the people in town all know I can't drive yet."

Jack quirked his eyebrow. "How many people are there? Three hundred?"

"More than thirty three thousand," I said, surprisingly calm, considering I was in my dead boyfriend's car and bloodstained coat with the friend of the man who killed him. "Not including Baldwin and Rockville Centre, the neighboring towns."

He sat forward in the seat as I shifted into gear, checking and double-checking everything to make sure I wouldn't crash and kill us. "Thirty three _thousand?_ How does everyone know you?" He sounded incredulous, and I didn't need to glance over to confirm it.

I shrugged, my eyes on the road as I started to drive home, the first place I thought of. "Everyone in town is pretty nosy. They literally have no respect for privacy. I'm the only one I know who isn't like that."

He snorted and leaned back again, his staff-thingy laying across both our laps like a safely bar, it was so long. When he didn't need it, it simply seemed to disappear, but maybe this was his way of threatening me. "I'm surprised you like it here."

I struggled to keep my face blank as I spoke. "I don't. I hate it here. I'm planning- at least, I _was_ planning- to move away for good as soon as I turn eighteen and graduate. Maybe go to college in Arizona or California." I shrugged, my fingers white on the steering wheel as I pulled into my driveway.

Jack made a face as he climbed out, shutting the door behind him with enough force to rock the whole van, effectively rousing me from my brief daydream of searing heat waves and blistering sun in the west. I climbed out and followed him, not really sure why, just doing it.

It made me stop in my tracks. _Was I turning into a mindless slave? I just drove home for the first time. He wanted to come to my house? How did I know where he wanted me to drive?_

"Faith," he growled, his easy- well, easi_er-_ attitude from the van gone. "Come."

I was reluctant, but resumed walking. He was waiting impatiently outside my front door and I grabbed my keys out of my bag and threw them at him. "Catch!"

He reached his hand out in a flash of movement almost too fast for the eye to follow and snatched the keys out of midair. He selected the right key on his first try and opened the door confidently, making me wonder how often he had watched me come home from school. He let himself in and I darted up the steps after him, looking around nervously. I shut the door behind me and locked it, my eyes scanning around. I felt endangered, like I was being watched. Of course, there _was_ my stalker of four years right next to me, which was probably it.

"Paige! Paige!" My little eight-year-old brother Dean ran into the room with his arms outstretched.

Out of habit, I ran to meet him halfway and picked him up, twirling him before settling him on my hip. I groaned. "Jeez, Dean, you're getting heavy. No more jumping on me. You're a big boy, and I'm a very little girl for my age." I set him down and bent over in front of him, my hands on my knees for support as I made myself at his eye-level. "Okay?"

"No!" He jumped and wrapped his arms around my neck again, swinging like a pendulum. "I'm never too big!" The extra weight made me fall to the floor.

I groaned again. "Oh, god, Dean, you know my knee-"

"Is that Jack Frost?"

I froze, forgetting he was even in my house. He was standing behind us, an amused smile on his face. He seemed surprised that Dean saw him, but waved with the hand that wasn't on his staff. "Hey, kiddo. How's it going?" Dean made as if to go up and say hi, but I grabbed his arm and he helped me to my feet, distracting him for a moment. I looked straight at Jack over Dean's head and mouthed, _Please let me stay. For him._

He shook his head the tiniest bit and the fragile hope that had risen in my chest was squashed flat once more. My chin tilted down in disappointment, but I made it look intentional by kissing the top of my little brother's head and ruffling his brown hair. "Do you want to go play? School ended early."

"Yeah!" He said excitedly. "Can Jack come?"

Before I could say no, Jack cut me off. "Of course!"

Dean led the way to the playroom, where he had all his Legos set up. "I've been waiting for you all day!"

I smiled. "Then let's get to it!" I knelt down in front of the small child-sized table where the pieces of pain were displayed, wincing as my knee protested but getting down there nonetheless.

Jack floated just above the table, face-down, his hood falling over his head and his sweatshirt hanging from his thin frame loosely.

We played with Legos and cars, making ramps and throwing stuff and screaming and making sound effects and explosions and Jack even flew Dean around the room once with me biting my nails and practically begging for them to get down before someone got hurt, just plain having fun, even as I glanced at Jack nervously now and again.

I almost forgot I was property.

Almost.

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_Guest- Frost: Yes, I listen to OneRepublic, they're awesome! Thank you for the complement, dear, and yes, yes he is *evil smirk*_

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**A/N:**  
**Soooo, whaddya think? The next chapter will take a while, it's a transition and those aren't my strong points. None of my characters should be masochistic, I don't know how to portray them.**  
**Please, please, PLEASE go visit my profile and vote on the poll! I need to know before I start writing more!  
****_ATTN_  
If you want an OC or even yourself put in this story, I'll make room, I need a lot of minor characters. Just PM me and I'll put them in. The majority of the Claimed are going to be meek and submissive though, and they might (will probably) act OOC., and Claimers/Visitors will be bold and brash and sassy and generally very seductive. First come, first served basis, though if I particularly like one I'll add you anyway. This is the list of what I will take:**  
**For Claimers: roughly 2 immortal OCs and 2 Fae/Changelings. Male or female accepted, physical ages 13-29.**  
**For Claimed: 1 sprite, 1 Fae/Changelings, 3 humans. Numbers may vary slightly; I don't really care but that's the rough number for Jack's group of Claimed. Same goes for Jeff and OC Claimers, so there's maybe... 30 Claimed in this story (mentioned here)? Only Jack's group and Jeff's group and a few random others will be named though, so reduce that to maybe 15, give or take.  
Visitors: 1 spirit, 2 sprites, 1 Changeling/Fae. Again, amount can fluctuate.**

**Let me explain, this gets really confusing.  
'Visitors' because this is a club in an extracurricular way (please don't start one at your school, that would be _bad)_ and a Club as in a bar way, sort of like reverse prostitution where Visitors pay to make out with the Members, even though I don't think the Members need the money and I don't even think it's prostitution in reverse.  
And no s-x or anything, immortals go by different standards/rules than humans so that's not what immortal prostitution is. Immortal 'prostitutes' just kiss and get all touch-y and they're not even prostitutes, more like Slave Owners and people pay to have an 'affair' with them. Again, not even a proper affair, hence the quotes. It's confusing, even _I_ don't know all the details, but everyone has gone to the Club at some point (except the Guardians minus Jack), and no one knows who belongs there except other Members.  
The Club is both frowned upon and held in high-esteem. (The Visitors are unknown to the Members and vice-versa, thanks to masks and clothing accompanied by cloaking spells so coloring and certain features are changed to make them unidentifiable. It's very awkward to know who goes there and who works there; if you ran into each other outside of The Club... well, there's a reason they make sure its anonymous. It's very private.)  
****I personally think it's disgusting, and I honestly hope none of you grow up to be a Visitor or a Member, of any club.  
This is purely for the purpose of the story.**

**I apologize. Deeply.  
Cat Lunanoff (who now wants to puke from the suggestive crap she just wrote), signing off *mock salute***


	6. Chapter 5- Man, I Hate My Parents

**Jack Frost Or Jack the Cursed?||Chapter 5- Man, I Hate My Parents**

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_Disclaimer: I always forget this friggin thing, but I don't own RotG or any other characters that are obviously not my OCs. One day, when I finally work at DreamWorks, maybe I can say it, but not yet. I_ do _own Faith, Dean, Dawn, Jerry and my sick, twisted plot**.** Please read the A/N, it's important(-ish, I think)_

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"Faith!" My mom yelled the moment she got home, the door slamming closed behind her with a bang. "Get in here!"

I scrambled to my feet, wincing at the pain shooting through my bad knee, and patted Dean on the head before hobbling out into the living room, which the front door opened into. "Yeah mom?"

"WHY WOULD YOU SKIP SCHOOL?" she demanded, still yelling even though I was right in front of her. "YOU'RE SETTING A BAD EXAMPLE FOR YOUR BROTHER!"

"Well, he wouldn't _know_ I skipped school if you hadn't SCREAMED IT FOR THE _WHOLE DAMN TOWN TO HEAR_!" I raged, my voice growing in volume until my voice broke.

She stood in shocked silence. I had _years_ of anger and resentment stored up towards her and this town, and what with dealing with Jack and Cliff and everything else today, I exploded.

When she spoke again, her voice was dangerously low. "What did you just say to me?"

I crossed my arms and glared at her. "You heard me. I don't know how you missed it, considering you are the biggest gossip in this whole freaking town of nosy scumbags, but I'm positive you heard me that time, no matter how much you've ignored me in the past."

Her voice was trembling and she clenched her hands into fists. "That is no way to speak to your mother. Go to your room."

I held my ground. "Quit talking about yourself in the third person. The moment I'm out of this room, you're going to call Dad, then your friends, then coworkers, and they'll tell everyone else, and within five freaking minutes this entire backwater town of busybodies will know I, the ridiculous teenage b!tch, rebelled against my poor kind mother, who just wanted what was best for said idiotic teenager, and skipped an entire month of school before coming home and screaming profanities at you and beating you senseless. Don't deny it, that's exactly what is going to happen." I waited with a smug smirk on my face. "You've never truly cared for me. I'm just another thing to spread rumors and tell stories about."

What she did next was completely and utterly unexpected, being the overweight, short, lazy woman she was, although with anyone else it probably would have happened earlier. She reached out, but instead of slapping me like most other parents would have, she swung her massive twenty-pound handbag at my face. It caught the side of my head and I crumpled, my vision dancing in and out of focus and dotted with black spots. My ears rang, but I heard a piercing scream through it and turned my head towards the source of the noise before I hit the ground.

I blinked slowly and saw Dean standing there, staring at our mom, his expression full of horror. "Paige!" he screamed again.

"Dean," I slurred, my tongue thick. "Go back in the playroom."

"Dean? Faith?" Jack spoke and flew cautiously out of the playroom. When he saw me sitting on the floor, slumped over, and my mom panting with her bag still swinging, his face distorted into an expression of fury that made me cringe back. Fairy-tale, childish Jack was gone again, and the killer was back. "Dean, get back in the playroom," he said carefully, his barely contained rage detectable just under the surface of his façade. He shut Dean in and faced my mother, who hadn't seen him yet, if she even could, still glaring down at me with a look of absolute hate on her fat features.

I coughed, then spat, trying to clear my head, and something came flying out of my mouth, to land on my chest. I picked it up, and through the haze, I dimly realized it was part of my tooth. I started laughing. I don't know why, but everything was just extremely funny. I doubled over in pain and laughter, clutching my gut and my head and the tooth to my chest.

I reached up to my face and traced the impression of a metal buckle, feeling the blood trickling down into my mouth. For some reason, I giggled harder, sticking my fingers into my mouth and reaching around to find the broken tooth. It was my top right canine, split cleanly in half. I was going into shock, as was evident from the hysterical laughter.

A cold feeling started on my neck, making everything snap into focus and my laughter cut off abruptly, leaving me choking on the silence. I pushed myself to a sitting position and saw the snowflake on my collarbone glow bright blue.

All the hate and blood drained from my mother's face to be replaced by fear as I struggled to my feet. Jack flew over and grabbed my arms, supporting me as I stood. He was surprisingly gentle, keeping me steady, although his terrifying mask was turned towards my mother, for which I was relieved.

"Faith! How dare you not tell me you were marked!" she yelled, glaring at me again.

I was about to retort nastily when pain slammed into my head again, making my knees buckle and Jack have to fully hold me up. "Stand on your own," he hissed.

"I'm _trying_!" I hissed back, yanking my arms away. "I was just hit in the head with a giant purse!"

"You shouldn't have angered her!"

"You should have just left when I got home!"

"Well, _you_ should have just accepted it earlier!"

"You should have left me alone in the first place!"

"You shouldn't have sought me out then! I wouldn't even have known you existed!"

"How the hell was _I_ supposed to know Jack Frost was an insane pedophile?"

He gritted his teeth and looked like he was going to slap me, making me back off. "Faith. Don't. Test. Me."

I remained silent and shot a glare at my mom, taking my silent anger out on her.

"Faith Paige Hernandez," she said, her tone angry despite the apparent fear in her face. "Why didn't you tell me you were marked?"

"Honestly?" She nodded. "I didn't trust you. You probably would have thrown me out onto the streets. I didn't know you wanted me to tell you. I didn't even know you knew about marks. How _do_ you know?"

She looked like she was about to hit me, but I was six inches taller than her and ready this time, even though I now had a head wound.

Jack looked like something was slowly starting to make sense. "Dawn," he stated.

I looked at him weirdly. "How do you know my mom's first name?"

She sneered at him. "Jack."

I looked back and forth between them. "Wait, you two know each other?"

Jack nodded. "We made a deal."

"He freed me from Poseidon-" my mom started.

My jaw dropped. "_Poseidon?_"

Jack finished my mom's sentence. "Probably just a wannabe, but yeah. And in return I got to take her firstborn."

It was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. "So you knew who my mom was the whole time. That was the only reason you marked me. I would have been property regardless of what happened." My voice was flat and void of emotion.

My mom sighed in exasperation. "Faith, just shut up already. You never did know when to stop-"

_CRACK!_

She stumbled back, her hand covering her cheek. Her eyes were dark and hooded, beady beneath the thick folds around them. She hissed at me and I raised my hand again. "No. It is _you_ who doesn't know when to shut up." I turned to Jack and let my hand drop at the fierce expression on his face. I took a step back, my hands trembling, but I spoke anyway. "Answer me."

"I wasn't aware that your statement required a response." His tone was cold and hard, making me regret ever being fascinated with him when I was little. My features morphed into a slight puppy-dog face, pouting a little and opening my eyes wide. He relented, just a little, and it gave me hope that he wasn't truly heartless. "It was luck. I didn't realize until now who your mother was." Unspoken words bounced around in my head, echoing in the empty space.

"So, it was inevitable." My voice was just as monotone as before. I shot a ferocious glare at my mom. "Gee, thanks, _mom_. What a _terrific_ parental role model you are."

"Dawn, I'm home!" My dad called loudly, making me perk up a bit. He was nicer and less strict with me than mom. "You said there was something we needed to talk about?"

"Yes Jerry, we do. Faith has been skipping school," she said coldly, almost as coldly as Jack.

I winced. "It was _one time_, and _today_. I had a good reason, too!"

"Shut _up_," she snapped.

"Is that Faith I hear?" My dad stuck his head in and I went to hug him, but Jack's hand closed on my left wrist and I froze in place.

"Hi, Daddy!" I called, managing to sound happy, before turning to Jack. "Can I take my cell phone?"

"Magic and electronics don't work well together," was his clipped response. "So, not the best idea. No."

My dad came in all the way and saw Jack's hand on my wrist. "Oh," he said, not as upbeat as earlier. He sounded sad. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I demanded, yanking my arm but Jack didn't move. His face was impassive. "_What are you sorry for?_"

Dad set his briefcase down and came over to me, pulling me into a hug despite Jack's arm. He bent slightly to look in my eyes. "Faith," he began. I could hear the trepidation in his voice and pulled away.

"You knew," I whispered, my quenched fury rearing its ugly head at the one adult it never did. "You knew this _whole time_ and you didn't say anything? _What kind of parents are you?_" I shoved him away roughly.

"The kind who thought I was eighteen when I died." Jack's chilly voice- and aura, can't forget about that- broke through my fiery one.

My thoughts were racing yet were muddled and confused from my anger. My free palm was warm and wet and itching slightly; I'd punctured the skin with my nails and blood was dripping slowly. "...What?" My words trickled out as slowly as the red liquid. "But... you were seventeen when you died... or was it fourteen?" A quick glance over at Jack's unamused expression confirmed my thoughts. "No, it was seventeen, according to that movie... even though the books say fourteen... it's common knowledge for anyone who did their research..." I looked around again; Dean was poking his head out of the doorway to the playroom. My parents looked confused. "But _I _was the only one who was obsessed... no one else bothered to look it up... not even on the wiki..." I trailed off. It was no use trying to explain when I barely understood myself. "I knew you were seventeen from the start," I stated coherently. "Possibly fourteen, but most likely seventeen. I knew before I was- Marked." That word still felt weird in my mouth. I doubted it would ever feel normal.

The corner of Jack's mouth twitched. "They thought they had another year to explain everything to you." A snort, what I supposed was his version of laughter, escaped. "If they _really_ cared they would have done their research too, or at least asked you."

My dad tried to catch my eye but I refused to look at him. "Faith, honey, we-"

"Jerry." My tone made him stop dead. "I don't want to hear it." I tore my wrist out of Jack's grasp, the skin red and bruised in the shape of his hand, slightly swollen, especially where his nails had scraped through the skin. I went to the stairs and grabbed Dean's hand, hiding my hurt one behind my back. I shot out a round of glares, making unflinching eye contact, even with Jack. "Y'all can talk this out like the civilized toddlers you are," I spat, my voice losing it's freezing edge and my usual fire edging in again. "I'm going to my room." I still had my bookbag on my shoulder as I carried Dean up the stairs, but my face melted into a gentle smile. "Sorry you had to see that, bud." I nudged my bedroom door open with my foot and plopped Dean down on my bed, tickling him briefly before going to my closet and looking for something I hadn't used in a long time.

Spotting the old orange backpack, I pulled it out with a huff and sat back on the heel of my good leg, my bad leg stretched out before me awkwardly. I unzipped the waterproof bag with a wistful expression. It, along with a pair of long-outgrown hiking boots, were from a camping trip I'd gone on with my family when I was fourteen. It was when Dean and I had grown closer and the outing had made me realize he wasn't an annoying pest, albeit a cute one, but instead someone to protect with my life, which I'd in fact done.

A branch weighing as much as me had fallen and instead of letting it fall on the five-year-old's head and kill him, I pushed him out of the way and it landed on my- currently bad- knee. The accident had done long-lasting damage and made it more fragile and temperamental. I also fell into a river instead of him, shielded the kid from a collapsing tent- that collapsed _while we were in it,_ by the way- in the process gaining a diagonal scar across my right-side ribs from a pole gone awry, and stopped him from eating a burning hot marshmallow. I still teased him about being a danger magnet.

That week in the wilderness had been one of the best weeks of my life.

Man, in hindsight, if that week of disaster was one of the best times of my life, my life _sucked._

Well, this backpack got me through all of it, and it would get me through this ordeal too.

I stuffed a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, a t-shirt, and a pajama tank along with jeans and flannel PJ bottoms into the big compartment. Plus unmentionables, but that goes without saying; if it doesn't, it should. Then a roll of dollar bills, a baggie of granola and a water bottle went on top. I slipped in a few pens and some paper, too. Not that I'm artistic, I can't draw to save my life, but I go crazy if I have no way of writing stuff- whatever that stuff is, a to-do list, a short story, a diary entry, whatever- down. I clambered into my closet and closed the doors to change into my old hiking clothes, which were just-too-small but not ridiculously bad, so I shrugged a few more layers on over them, another hoodie, and then Cliff's leather jacket, which I refused to part with, and it covered my glowing scar. I grabbed the small hand-sew fabric bag full of my most prized possessions and stuffed it in my pocket as I exited the small, dark space.

"Where're you going, Paige?" Dean chirped in his little-boy voice.

I mentally cursed. I forgot Dean was in my room. "I'm going away Dean, I'm going to college a year early and I might not ever come back. Sorry, I just don't like Mom and Dad right now, they probably won't let me come visit. Don't worry though, Jack'll be looking out for me, and I won't forget you. Okay bud? Maybe I'll come see you when you graduate high school."

Dean looked sad, but not as sad as he would be if I told him I was leaving forever with his childhood hero who was also a serial killer and had carved a snowflake on my collarbone when I was thirteen. "Okay Paige. See you in a few years?"

I nodded and put on a brave smile that I didn't feel. "Right. Bye, kiddo. Love you." I slung the bag over my shoulders and knelt to give him a hug, which was much too short in my opinion, before leaving him in my room and going downstairs with an even more broken heart.

I jumped the last four steps, the first time I'd ever done that, just to be able to know I actually did it once. I hooked my thumbs under the straps, a bandage wrapped around my left wrist. "Let's go."

The three seemed surprised by my determined manner. "Wha-?" my d- _Jerry,_ spluttered.

"Goodbye Dawn, Jerry. Going with this psycho," I got a pinch on the back of the neck, "is preferable to having to stay with you another year." Jack took my hand and I let him pull me out the back door before he dragged me into the sky.

I looked down as I dangled by one hand (you wouldn't believe how strong he is, it's freaky, especially when he looks like a toothpick) and I instantly wished I hadn't. I felt like throwing up as I saw how high we were; at least two hundred feet, if not more. The air was thinner, but not thin enough that I had trouble breathing. "Where are we going?" I shouted up at Jack.

"Where I bring you!" he hollered back, his scary face on. I observed the tips of my fingers turning purple as the blood was cut off by his grip.

I decided to shut up before I lost my fingers. _Oh god,_ I thought. _Will this ride ever end?_ Vertigo was nothing compared to what I was going through, but I kept quiet until we ascended to the point that I couldn't breathe correctly and my gasps were loud enough to make my Claimer drop fifty feet by the second until my breathing quieted. It didn't do much for my ears popping and the headache that was slowly building behind my eyes, but it worked wonders for my lungs. The wind whipped my loose hair into my face and made me wish it was long enough to braid, or at least that my orange bandanna, which had replaced the plastic headband, was doing it's job correctly, but of _course_ not, nothing would be remotely easy, so my whole journey, which lasted at _least_ an hour (Jack had the good grace to let me swap hands halfway through so I could regain the feeling in my fingers) was spent spitting flyaways and chunks of hair out of my mouth. I was positive, that with _my_ luck, I would cough up a hairball or something later.

* * *

**A/N:**  
**Sorry about the awkward ending, but this was a ginormous mega-chapter that was going to be at least 6,000 words, and it would've dragged on forever if it didn't end here (the line was already there, but more was after it originally). I'll just put in the last couple of sentences at the beginning of ch 6.**  
**OHMYGOD I AM SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE BUT I'VE RUN OUT OF PREWRITTEN CHAPTERS, I'M WRITING AS I GO NOW. Any suggestion made/OCs submitted will still be taken.**  
**THIS IS THE IMPORTANT THING I MENTIONED IN THE DISCLAIMER: I will be switching back and forth between Faith and 3rd person, since I want to fit in stuff that happens when she isn't around and explain the spirit world/Club better, so don't freak when it changes. I will (probably) never switch mid-chapter; if I have to, I'll cut the chapter in half and post the other pov the same day, so some will be shorter than others.  
I HAVE A TON OF IDEAS/ARC/ONESHOTS FOR "Were Do We Go From Here" that will interconnect/be in the same 'verse/explain things from previous/future arcs. They will be my headcanons if I ever do that, and it will say it in the disclaimer. They're just all in-the-works so it'll be a while for that story. I also want requests for it, my ideas come and go if I cant write them down fast enough.  
That's about it! I hope you enjoyed it!  
This is Cat Lunanoff, signing off *mock salute***


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